


A dream long dead

by samariumwriting



Series: Claurenz Week [3]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mentioned Golden Deer Students (Fire Emblem), Past Character Death, Post-Black Eagles Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), past relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22394698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samariumwriting/pseuds/samariumwriting
Summary: It's been years since Claude left Fódlan, defeated. He always wanted to break down the borders between Fódlan and Almyra, but it's something that seems further away than ever. And the method to achieving it brings back memories he only wants to push away.-“Thank you for agreeing to these negotiations,” Claude said, nodding his head to Lorenz. He tried to keep his face as neutral as possible. “I am King Chavdar of Almyra, and I hope our discussions will be fruitful.”Lorenz bowed his head slightly in return. “Well met, King Chavdar,” he said. “I am Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, High Governor of the Leicester Province. I wish the same, and hope that our mutual aims can be met through these negotiations.”
Relationships: Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Claude von Riegan
Series: Claurenz Week [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1610119
Comments: 12
Kudos: 77
Collections: Claurenz Week: Winter 2020





	A dream long dead

**Author's Note:**

> This is my third piece for Claurenz week, written for one of the day five prompts, (dis)trust.

It had always been his aim, of course, that one day he would be able to arrange this kind of meeting. Have this kind of discussion. The Alliance and Almyra at one table, sharing a meal, working through their differences, charting a brighter future for both nations. He’d even describe it as his dream, if he could have those these days.

But the crown of Almyra felt heavy, knowing that it had come to these circumstances. He’d spent months upon months arranging this, collecting papers, working through all the information he had on how Fódlan had changed since he left. Since he ran away. He spent days working out who might be a part of the delegation, how he could play the situation to his advantage.

He didn’t like the conclusion he’d come to. He didn’t like that he had to do this. But he had to. He had to engage with the Empire if anything was ever going to change. He had to face up to everything he’d left behind.

Claude flew to the meeting without bothering to force a smile onto his face. He’d need that energy for everything that was to come.

He was faced, naturally, with exactly the person he knew would be at the head of the delegation. Lorenz. A little bit older (but weren’t they all?) and a little bit further away from the person he remembered. Exactly the person he'd expected, and exactly the person he'd feared.

Lorenz, of course, wasn’t surprised when Claude landed. Naturally the Empire had guessed who the King of Almyra was; maybe they’d known before he even left. Lorenz only smiled a small, knowing smile, and Claude returned it. There was no time for his preferred game of the jolly, youthful Almyran King. Lorenz knew him far too well for that.

“Thank you for agreeing to these negotiations,” Claude said, nodding his head to Lorenz. He tried to keep his face as neutral as possible. “I am King Chavdar of Almyra, and I hope our discussions will be fruitful.”

Lorenz bowed his head slightly in return. “Well met, King Chavdar,” he said. “I am Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, High Governor of the Leicester Province. I wish the same, and hope that our mutual aims can be met through these negotiations.”

The negotiations began quickly after that; there was no real need for introductions or getting to know each other. Testing the water was necessary, perhaps, but that was what this first day was for. Claude didn’t hope to get much done at all for at least two days.

Discussions were infuriatingly slow. Try as he might, Claude couldn’t quite detach himself from Fódlan’s domestic politics. He objected to lots of things that were happening in the former Alliance (the Leicester Province, now, as he had to keep reminding himself) and the Duke Riegan in him wanted to stick his hands in and change things for the better.

But that was exactly what he needed to avoid doing. Because that was exactly what the Empire would be looking out for him doing. It was one of their biggest bargaining chips: they knew him. He didn’t know how well he knew them.

Lorenz especially was someone he was no longer sure if he really knew. During the war with the Empire, back when the thought of defeat was always on his mind but never quite as real as it was in this moment right now, he and Lorenz had...a thing. That’s what Claude had always called it. A thing. A relationship that never really was.

They’d danced around each other a lot. There had been a whole lot of flirting. One or two kisses shared in dark corners where no one would see. One night after a day when everything seemed to be falling apart, where Claude had, for a few hours at least, been able to believe that maybe there could be happiness in a world where his dreams were out of reach.

Other than that, they’d stayed apart. Things were bad with the Empire. It was a war of attrition that they knew they would lose if something didn’t change. And, well, it turned out that nothing changed. At least not in their favour.

The morning after those few hours of blissful ignorance, Lorenz had left to return to his father’s house. Two weeks later, the Empire crossed the Bridge of Myrddin, and Claude never saw Lorenz again.

It hurt to see him now, on the other side of the negotiation table. On the other side of a divide Claude no longer knew if he could cross. Not that it was him who had crossed anything, really. It was Lorenz who had switched sides, Lorenz who had turned away when the Alliance had needed someone to stick up for it.

At least, that was what Claude told himself. Maybe it was him who had turned away, really.

The simmering discomfort that bubbled beneath the surface of his skin only increased with the second day of the talks - Lorenz, in their recess for lunch, made an offhand comment about eating together being like the old days. He sounded fond. Claude, despite knowing that he should at least keep their relationship cordial for the sake of the talks, couldn’t help but snap back.

“Like the old days?” he asked. “The old days, when we ate as equals with all kinds of people. Nobles like Hilda and Marianne, commoners like Ignatz and Leonie?” Lorenz did, at least, have the decency to look a little ashamed. All of them were dead. Lysithea, too, was someone Claude had heard nothing from. He had, as of yet, been too afraid to ask when she’d gone.

Lorenz’s face took on a carefully neutral look, and he nodded. “I understand,” he said. Claude doubted he really did.

Lysithea actually came up in that afternoon of negotiations, in the end. The land that was formerly Ordelia territory was mentioned, and Claude made the mistake of asking who governed it. Who had been responsible for the integration of power.

The answer was no one. The heir, one of the delegates said (Lorenz had stepped out of the room, briefly, for what he said was relieving himself but what Claude suspected was a desperate need to avoid the conversation), had died young - soon after the war - and her parents had disappeared in an instant. The territory was left without any governance and briefly descended into chaos before the Empire's army had stepped in. Claude hadn't felt able to press for details as to what happened after that.

When Lorenz returned to the room only a few minutes later, Claude fixed him with a cold look. The negotiations continued as normal, but Claude couldn’t stop thinking about it. Lysithea had always been frail, as much as she’d never wanted to admit it. Why hadn’t Lorenz looked after her? Why hadn’t he looked after her parents?

The point of a conference like this, the point of living in the same place for several days and working something out over the course of that time, was to build trust between those negotiating. If you could understand and get along with the person you were working things out with, the negotiations would be far friendlier, and things would get done faster.

But Claude couldn’t trust Lorenz. He couldn’t trust the person Lorenz had become. He didn’t know which parts of himself Lorenz had sacrificed when he decided to ally with the Empire. Could he be considered the kind hearted man he spent so much time alongside? What had he agreed to throw to the wayside when he made that alliance? Who had that hurt?

Lorenz wanted to reconnect. Claude knew that. On the second day, at the end of their formal talks, Lorenz invited him to spend that evening with him. On the third day, he invited him for tea. On the fourth day, he asked if perhaps they could talk, if only for a short while. Every day, Claude refused.

He knew they were meant to get along, meant to spend time together. But Claude was only interested in one thing: he wanted to open the borders. That was the only acceptable step he could take towards his goals that involved being friendly with the Empire. He’d be hostile if he could, but Fódlan had been through so much suffering...he didn’t think he’d be able to bear it. So each night he deflected. Each night, he replied “my apologies, Lorenz, but I can't tonight. I was going to retire and prepare for tomorrow.”

And each night, Lorenz’s response was “of course, Claude.” Each time, he stuttered over his name, uncertain of whether to address him by his title, or by Chavdar. Claude preferred to watch him squirm rather than tell him. It was a small victory, and he felt a little like a petty ex boyfriend, but it gave him the tiniest sense of satisfaction before the guilt could hit.

The conference ended after just over a week of negotiations. The borders would go through a trial period of being open for anyone to cross, and work would begin on reaching a point where Fódlan’s Locket could be destroyed. It was the outcome Claude had wanted, and yet…

When they ended the negotiations formally, they clasped hands across a map of Fódlan and Almyra. Claude’s hand stayed in Lorenz’s perhaps slightly longer than was appropriate, slightly longer than was acceptable. They parted with a ghost of a smile, and Claude turned away to mount his wyvern and turn his back, once again, on Fódlan.

He couldn’t help but wonder, in that long flight home, as to what could have been. The bond between him and Lorenz had been so real. The moments they spent together during the war had been intimate, and Claude wouldn’t hesitate to describe them as perfect.

He hated what had happened. He hated that they’d been pulled apart by something so much larger than two men who definitely could have been in love in a better world.

One day, perhaps, he’d be able to trust Lorenz again. He hoped he’d be able to. As things were, seeing him hurt. Interacting with him hurt. He wanted to mend the rift that had appeared between them, somehow, but he didn’t know if it was possible now time had passed and what they’d once held between them had become so strained and cold.

If they couldn’t do that, Claude hoped he’d at least be able to form some kind of bond of trust between Fódlan and Almyra. Maybe he’d failed to build a world where he could have happiness for himself, but maybe there was still hope for everyone else.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This one was. Decidedly less happy than the other stuff I've written/planned for this week. I don't write angst all that often, so I hope this was okay! If you enjoyed this (or if you didn't), please consider leaving me a comment, and you can also follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/samariumwriting)


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